Page 2 of A Promising Little Scandal (Sensual Scandals)

For Calliope, hothouse roses were certainly not it.

Sebastian Ford, Viscount Blakely, tossed a gambling token in his palm and slouched in his seat at Boodle’s as he stared out the window. He wasn’t just bored. He was utterly and thoroughly bored, and the present company just couldn’t compare to the lively chats he used to have with the Earl of Somers. Unfortunately, ever since his bosom companion had chosen to leave London some months ago, embarking on a life of wedded bliss in the country, he had been left to his own devices.

It was deucedly inconvenient.

“I say, that’s a dreary look you’re wearing, Blakely. I hope you’re not planning to leave the game.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes as he glanced at the middle-aged earl with his paunchy midsection. “I regret that when it comes to present company,” he drawled as he tossed down the playing chip, “Brook’s, just across the street, does appear to be a bit more to my tastes.”

The earl made an expression which could have only been considered a pout. Seb wasn’t a fan when the hopeful debutantes in society looked at him that way, but in a man the earl’s age, it was quite ridiculous. “But if you leave, I shouldn’t have the chance to recoup my losses,” the man whined.

Sebastian accepted his coat and hat from the waiter he’d signaled and turned back to the man. “How shall I rest easy knowing that I bested you out of all these shillings?” He jangled the coins in the purse and then tucked them securely in his jacket as he walked away.

He strode outdoors, but when he would have gone inside the gentleman’s establishment across the street, Sebastian changed his mind and turned on his heel, wondering if White’s might offer more stimulating entertainment. He adopted a lazy stride as he made his way down the street, but when he eventually paused before the bow window, he decided that maybe gambling wasn’t what he was in the mood for at all.

In truth, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do.

Very inconvenient, indeed.

He stood there with a frown on his face and contemplated his other options. He could visit his favorite bawdy house, he supposed, since he was in between mistresses, but surprisingly enough, that didn’t even hold the proper enthusiasm that it usually did.

He glanced up at the clear, blue sky and tried to tell himself that it was a perfect day, but even the heavens had turned gray with the disappearance of his closest comrade. He couldn’t understand why Grey had to marry when they had been perfectly content with their bachelor lives. No strings attached, just as Seb preferred it, and until recently, it had been the same for Grey.

But that was before the arrival of the Bevelstroke sisters. Even before the Season had hit London, they had managed to make more than a few ripples in the gossip pond. They had quite taken the ton by storm with their forward, independent women ideals, and yet, two of the sisters had managed to snag a duke and an earl in record time—his earl, to be precise.

He had been quite sour about it all when he’d received an unexpected letter from Grey telling him that he had tied the knot. If Seb hadn’t been sitting down, he would have likely fallen over. He knew Grey had been besotted with Araminta Bevelstroke, but he had never imagined that their affair would end up at the altar.

More’s the pity.

And yet, Seb couldn’t help but be truly happy for his long-time friend. Ever since their days at Eton, he knew the instant that love’s arrow had pierced Grey directly in the heart, nearly from the first moment he’d laid eyes on the gel.

Of course, their union also meant that Calliope Bevelstroke would be Grey’s sister-in-law, so perhaps this change of events could be a good thing. Seb had always had a weakness when it came to redheads and the fiery, copper locks that graced the lady’s head had caught his immediate attention. Regrettably, he respected Grey too much to dally with the lady. Other than a few flirtatious encounters, it would never go as far as the bedchamber.

At two and thirty, Seb had decided long ago that he was not the marrying kind. It might be expected of him to carry on the line as a viscount, but he would leave the begetting of heirs to some poor sod, as he wasn’t interested in the least. It wasn’t even that he had some terrible family tragedy that had caused him to shy away from fatherhood, he just didn’t care for the sniveling brats that arrived from procreation.

Granted, as an only child, that might have been the root cause of his reluctance to sire any children, or perhaps it was seeing Grey’s sister with her nine-count brood. Of course, she appeared to be perfectly content with all those tiny hands grasping at her skirts, but the sight had always made Seb’s skin crawl. He much preferred the company of adult females to those with sticky fingers.

There had only been one time he’d come close to even considering something more with a woman, had entertained the dangerous thought only briefly, but thankfully, he’d had the wherewithal to put an end to things before his heart had become fully engaged. She was still around London and now and then their paths crossed, and he was grateful that he’d come to his senses before he’d made a terrible mistake. Now when he saw her, he felt absolutely nothing, not even desire.

It only went further to prove that love didn’t really exist. It was just an illusion, passion wrapped up in a neat little package as a way for people to come together. Then, once the vows were spoken, the flame eventually died out, but by then it was too late.

He feared that one day Grey would come to him with the same complaint, but if there was one person he hoped might succeed within a happy marriage, it was him. He was a good man and deserved nothing less.

Unfortunately, this revelation didn’t assist Seb in finding a cure for his boredom.

But then, as if suddenly realizing where he was, he smiled broadly and took off walking once more. There was one person he could bedevil—his grandfather. The old codger always put a bit of a spring in Seb’s step, because although they were family, they didn’t really get along. At least, outwardly it appeared that way. They traded insults like most people in society traded compliments, but it had always been thus between them, and Seb wouldn’t have it any other way. As a boy he’d thought him to be a hateful old curmudgeon, but as he’d grown into a man, Seb realized that he could relate to a lot of what the man grumbled about.

With his own parents gone, his grandfather was one of the few family members that Seb had left, so he supposed he should be thankful that there was someone he could spend time with that was blood relation.

If nothing else, he was one hell of a sparring partner when it came to voicing his opinion.

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